Ready To Burn
by ProneToRelapse
Summary: After all, you act because you have to, not because you want to, although that may be part of it. You see the future flash briefly before your eyes and you have to do something. You can't just stand there and hope for the best, can you? MxA. Drabble.
1. Chapter 1

You never think of the consequences. Not once in your short life have you ever stopped to think about what will happen after you act. But you've never needed to. It never seems important. After all, you act because you have to, not because you want to, although that may be part of it. You see the future flash briefly before your eyes and you have to do _something. _You can't just stand there and hope for the best, can you? That's never been your personality. You have to act. Always. You have to act.

That's what you do now. The moment the blade glints in the sunlight, you know with cold, chilling certainty that this is another of those moments when you have to act. There is no choice in the matter. There never was a choice.

The blade swings round in a deadly arc and your keen eyes follow the path of the blade, marking its tragectory. You know where it will land. Every projectile and weapon always has the same target in your life, doesn't it? You know. You've always known. Such knowledge is tiring, but you know what you're about to do.

Usually, it's easy. Call down a branch, heat the hilt of the sword. There a one thousand different ways to disarm an opponent without revealing yourself. You've had to learn them to keep yourself secret, to keep yourself safe. You do it now, with a breathed word and the burn of power in your eyes. There's a crack and the assailant is crushed beneath a foot-thick branch. He isn't dead yet and, as a sign of mercy, you whisper another word to stop his pain. The light goes out within him. Another soul returned to the earth.

You turn at the last possible moment, feeling bad for the loss of life; the life that your took. You tell yourself the same thing, chanting the words in your head. _Never a choice, never a choice. _It doesn't ease your guilt.

But you don't have time for guilt now, because you have to duck to avoid the downslash of another blade. You spin to the side, faster than you even knew you could move. The enemy stumbles forward, off-balance. Bringing your arm round, you thump him on the back, forcing him to the ground. Your combat has improved. You play the fool when you are really the wiseman. It's a farce. Everything is a farce.

Before your enemy can scramble to his feet, you draw the dagger you hide beneath your jacket. The blade glints, rotates once and strikes the man in the centre of his back. Despite the blood that is now on your hands, you are proud. Proud to be able to defend those you love without the sole use of your magic. It means you are safer. You are safer.

There are many more than two and you can see your companions fighting their own enemies. You assess the situiation with lightening speed, tryign to decide who needs your help more. You run to your left. It will always be him, won't it? You don't even try to resist.

From your boots you produce two four-inch long thropwing knives, thin like darts and weighted specifically for your strength. You raise them and throw one after the other with unnerring accuracy. They hit their mark silently and he tumbles to the ground. Stunned blue eyes meet yours and you nod solemnly. He knows you're there with him. _for _him. He knows it and you feel he finally understands.

_Two sides of the same coin. _That's what you are. The coin has been tossed and it is turning, always revovling. You know it isn't long before it lands. And you hope, you fervently hope that, by some miracle, it lands on its edge. Even if it doesn't, you will still be part of that coin. Heads or tails? Heads. Whatever happens, it must be heads.

Suddenly you're running again. Your heart thuds wildly and you are breathing so fast that your head feels light. Still you run faster and draw another throwing knife. This one is slightly off target and you curse under your breath. It still hits the opponent's raised arm and he cries out, dropping his sword. You draw your dagger and finish him with a deft slit to his throat.

But there are too many.

There is a loud cry of pain, a cry you've heard before. But this time it's different. This time it's tinged with fear.

You whirl round in panic and find that you're surrounded. Drawn swords, taut bowstrings. And He is in danger. Held to the ground my several others, he writhes, trying to get free. But he can't. He just can't.

And you knwo what you have to do.

It wells up within you, burning your throat as you yell out the savage cry that unbinds the magic from your soul. With a dizzying rush it leaves your body, whirling around you in a furious tempest. You can feel the lives of every man surrounding you snuff out like candle flames. It hurts. It's like dying a thousand times over. It burns in your eyes and you throw your arms out, feeling the power sting your fingertips.

At dissapates and there is silence.

The consequences don't matter. He's safe. It's all you wanted, in the end.

Even now, bound and restrained, you know that your sacrifice was worth it.

After all, you are an elemental warlock.

What can man's fire do to you?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi there! I got loads of people saying that they wanted me to continue Ready to Burn so this is it! I had a really good idea and decided to give it a go! **

**Basically, expect heavy lemon and lots of Merlin topless, okay?**

**What? You can't see Merlin topless? Well, that's not my fault! Use your imagination.**

**Rude…**

**So! Read, enjoy and don't forget to tip the author (moi) by reviewing!**

**Love you, my little foxes!**

* * *

><p>Heavy metal grated against the stone floor as the cell door was wrenched open. Cold air swept in, dousing the brazier's flame and plunging the cell into darkness. A Knight hurried in, a sword drawn readily in one hand and a lit torch in the other. He held the blazing flame to the extinguished bracket, encouraging the spent torch to light again. It burst back into blazing life, lighting the cell and throwing flickering shadows on the curled up prisoner in the corner of the room.<p>

All the necessary precautions had been made. A thin band of red gold lined the walls of the cell, runes etched into the metal. The runes glowed with a dull red light, gently pulsing in the gloom. The same runes pulsed on manacles that encased the prisoner's wrists and ankles. Another ring of metal was clinched around his neck which made his current position so uncomfortable, though he had no strength to move. A rattling cough tore itself from his throat and he shivered.

The Knight turned back to the door of the cell. He stepped out. He held up one hand. Five minutes. That was all. Five minutes to comfort a condemned man. Five minutes to soothe a friend's anxieties. Five minutes to bid a lover farewell.

Just like the old rhyme.

_Five minutes left to you.  
>I'll stay and sing you one last song.<br>Until the night has neared and come;  
>to bear you to Avalon.<em>

How cruel fate was with all her twists and turns. She gave nothing and took all, mocking everyone trapped against her turning wheel.

Arthur looked at the Knight guarding the cell. "Close the door?" he asked softly, eyes pleading. The Knight hesitated, looking torn between obeying his Prince and obeying his King. "Just five minutes," Arthur stressed desperately. The Knight sighed and nodded, pushing the bars back into place. Once the metal grating died away, Arthur approached the prisoner. The smell of death and sickness lingered in the air, choking Arthur, stifling him.

"Why?" he asked softly, sadly. The body on the cot was almost lifeless. Then, with a breathless groan, it rolled over onto its back, sweat-drenched, pale skin shining ivory-white in the dark. Eyes that were a dull, milky blue stared out from beneath hooded lids, full of pain. But no regret filled them. Strangely, no regret entered into those once-vibrant eyes. They fixed onto Arthur with a sacrificial reluctance that Arthur had seen too many times on too many condemned faces. It haunted Arthur every night. He thought himself powerful; ready to help when he was needed. Now, when it _truly _mattered, he was helpless.

Fate was laughing at him.

"Why?" he asked again, voice quavering in the dark. The prisoner shivered from a ghostly chill.

"Because I had to," the prisoner croaked. Despite his paleness, a soft blush of fever covered his skin. "Because I _could." _He coughed under the strain of his emphasis. Arthur knelt beside the cot, reaching for one limp hand that was burning hot. The prisoner shivered again.

"I didn't ask you to," Arthur said uselessly. What could he possibly say? What could make this better?

Nothing. Nothing at all and exactly what Arthur could do.

"You never have to ask. It will always be you, Arthur. Two sides of the same coin, you and me. My life…for yours. Couldn't ask for a deal more worth it. I exist…because you do."

Arthur shook his head. "No. You should never have come to Camelot. If you'd never met me-"

"You-" the prisoner hacked painfully – "would have died. Destiny is a fickle thing."

"Destiny is cruel," Arthur spat.

"Destiny is not to be mocked. " Arthur stilled as the prisoner's free hand rose slowly towards his face. The manacles glowed menacingly, slowly sapping the last vestiges of strength and magic from the unwilling body they enclosed beneath them. Arthur's eyes flickered shut as the prisoner's long fingers trailed tenderly across his cheeks.

"Merlin…" Arthur choked, tears filling his eyes.

"Look at you," Merlin whispered in wonder, "so _alive. _This is what I will remember. If a millennium in Avalon does not dull my memory, I will remember your face. I will remember… how much I loved your smile… how much I ached when you cried…"

Arthur shook his head fiercely, tears splashing onto Merlin's sleeve, darkening the fabric. "I don't want you to die," he confessed, dangerously close to weeping.

"Hush," Merlin said softly. "_I _want this."

Arthur's head snapped up. "You want to die?"

"…No. I want _peace. _The last three years have weighed heavily upon me, Arthur… Arthur, you do not feel what I feel. As I speak to you, these cursed manacles sap my strength. They're bleeding me dry. It is… agony," Merlin gasped out. "Such a pain I have never felt. Without my magic… a fever moves across my skin and a poison works its cruel power in my blood. I'm… fading, Arthur. I know that I'm dying. It will be… a… _release _when my time comes tomorrow."

The gateway holding back the grief within Arthur burst open and the tears flowed like rain form his eyes. He laid his head upon Merlin's breast and wept, his shoulders shaking with the force of his pain. Merlin murmured softly, stroking trembling fingers through the Prince's silken hair.

"I wish we'd had more _time,_" Arthur lamented. "I had hoped… when you told me…" He convulsed against the grief in his heart. A fault line splintered in his chest, ready to crack open at any moment.

"That is my only regret," Merlin murmured. "I had wished to watch you ascend to the throne. You will make… a fine King."

"Without you by my side I don't feel strong enough to lead anyone," Arthur breathed. "I _need _you, Merlin."

Merlin closed his eyes and dragged a ragged breath passed his cracked lips. A single tear leaked from beneath his lids. Another shiver rippled through his weakened frame. "I'm so cold…"

Arthur gently eased Merlin over in the cot, moving the warlock with the tenderness of a mother with her newborn child. Merlin still winced as Arthur moved him, biting back a pained cry. Arthur apologised and lay beside Merlin, enfolding him in his arms, hoping that their shared warmth would help to stay the cold. Holding Merlin close was all Arthur could do to stay sane and whole in this dark hour.

"All the things we've done together," Arthur murmured, pressing his face into Merlin's hair. "All those things you've done for me. How can I let you go?"

"We all have a duty, Arthur. You know that more than anyone."

"I… suppose. But… I'll miss you."

Merlin let out a choked sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. "And I you. But as I said, we have a duty."

"And as _I _said, I wish we had more time. Duty does not take away the pain, Merlin. I doubt it ever will."

"More time…" Merlin murmured. "Do I have enough power?" He seemed to be speaking to himself. His brow puckered in a slight frown. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Let me… give you one… last gift."

"You don't need to give me anything."

"Please… I'm fading fast. I… I need this, too."

"What is it?"

"Give me your hand."

Arthur reached for Merlin's shaking hand. The minute their palms touched, Arthur felt a drain on his strength and Merlin gave an agonised cry. A burn flickered behind Arthur's eyes and they swirled with a strange power.

"What have you done?" Arthur demanded.

"One last gift to see me to my rest," Merlin gasped in pain. "Everyone has magic in them, Arthur. I've drawn on the small part of you that is magic and the last reserves of my energy. I'm channelling my power through you for this."

"What are you doing?!" Energy buzzed up Arthur's arm, vibrating through him.

"Sleep, my Prince. Sleep with me and remember our times together. I cannot give you more time, but I can help you to remember the time we did have. Remember, Arthur. Dream with me…"

Arthur did not fight it. Giving in to the gentle lull of magic, his eyes slid closed and he fell under the spell Merlin was casting.

On the last night of Merlin's life, they dreamed.

**{}{}{}{}{}{M}{}{}{}{}{}**

_Camelot training ground, six months ago._

Leon let out a cry of surprise and dove out of the way of the archery target, narrowly avoiding the stiletto that pierced the painted wood with a dull thud. He looked up in amusement to see Gwaine and Lancelot laughing hysterically at the Prince's horrified manservant, whose hands were clamped over his mouth. Leon grinned and stood up, looked at the target and laughed, despite nearly becoming one. The stiletto had hit the ring dead centre.

"I'm so sorry!" Merlin called to him. "Those two," he pointed accusingly at Gwaine and Lancelot, "distracted me."

"Not to worry," Leon called back, pulling the stiletto out of the wood and walking back up to the young servant. He handed the small knife over. "It was a good shot. You almost had me."

Merlin took the stiletto and bounced it in his palm. His cheeks flushed red. "I still don't understand why Arthur wants me to learn how to use these."

"Maybe he thinks it'll improve your balance," Gwaine choked out, eyes streaming. "Leon, your _face_!" He fell about again. Lancelot clapped Merlin on the shoulder, still chuckling.

"Maybe we should leave the stilettos for now," he suggested. "We still have an hour. Why don't we try hand to hand combat again? You were getting good at that before Gwaine cheated."

"I did _not _cheat!" the rambunctious Knight protested. "You didn't _say _no biting was allowed."

Merlin turned his arm and lifted his sleeve, examining the line of angry bite marks on his forearm. Gwaine had a set of sharp teeth on him.

"Okay, but I'm not fighting him again," Merlin griped. "If I go back to Arthur covered in bite marks, he's going to wonder what I've been doing." Gwaine guffawed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"What was that about biting?" the voice of Percival asked, stepping up behind them.

"Gwaine bit me," Merlin complained. "We were wrestling. I totally would have won if _Sir _Gwaine over there wasn't such a filthy cheat."

"_I didn't cheat!_"

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said to Merlin, leading him over to the sparring ring. Merlin went somewhat unwillingly, dragging his feet to slow himself down. Percival grinned and shoved him forward playfully, ruffling the warlock's hair.

"It's like having a little brother around when you're here," he commented. "You don't half make me laugh, Merlin." Leon and Lancelot nodded in agreement.

"Okay!" Lancelot said cheerfully. "Remember what I said last time, Merlin. Keep moving and, if you see an opening in my defences at _any _time, go in for an attack, okay?"

Merlin nodded, frowning. He spread his feet apart, palms coming up defensively in front of him. Lancelot and he started circling each other, staring each other down. Gwaine whistled encouragingly.

"Pretend he's Arthur," he suggested, "and you've scared away his prey… _again._"

"Or you spilled mead on his ceremonial tunic… _again,_" Leon added.

"Yes, thank you," Merlin called back, not looking around. He was waiting for any indication that Lancelot might be about to move. His eyes narrowed in concentration and he felt his eyesight improve as his magic acted instinctively to help him.

The middle finger on Lancelot's left hand twitched almost imperceptibly. Merlin saw it and whirled to his right a split second before Lancelot launched himself into the space where Merlin had been a moment ago. He stumbled, surprised, his arms closing around empty air. Merlin lunged forward and brought his elbow down between Lancelot's shoulder blades. The Knight gasped and dropped heavily to his knees.

Silence descended on the training ground. The watching Knights stared with open mouths and wide eyes. Even Merlin couldn't quite believe what he'd done.

"Are you okay?" he stammered, kneeling down beside Lancelot. He cried out when Lancelot launched himself at Merlin, knocking the warlock onto his back. Merlin made a square with his arms, pushing his hands against Lancelot's biceps. Lancelot had him pinned so he couldn't roll over but Merlin had a trick up his sleeve, borne along by the adrenaline in his blood. He raised his knees and hooked a foot into Lancelot's stomach, kicking up with all his strength. Lancelot flew over his head and landed bodily on his back, his breath whooshing out of him. Merlin rolled over backwards and landed on top of the stunned Knight, pinning him down.

"Do you yield?" Merlin panted, feeling hot and heavy. Lancelot stared up at his friend – his lanky, uncoordinated friend who had managed to pin him to the ground. A blinding grin stretched across his face.

"I yield," he beamed breathlessly, his lungs protesting for air. Merlin grinned in disbelief and got up, reaching down a hand to help Lancelot to his feet.

"That was amazing!" Leon shouted, bursting into applause. "Merlin, that was brilliant!"

"Way to go, Merlin!" Percival hooted.

"I don't even…" Gwaine spluttered.

Lancelot and Merlin laughed at their praise and shook hands, playfully shoving each other. Merlin beamed with pride. He had managed to overcome an opponent without magic. He was getting stronger.

"If you keep this up," Leon said, "you could become a Knight in no time."

"Do you want to become a Knight?" Lancelot asked.

Merlin looked thoughtful. "I suppose… I was hoping that I might become what Gaius is - a sort of advisor on herbal lore and… uh… other stuff."

"Since when have you given any good advice?" Arthur asked, walking toward his Knights with Elyan by his side.

"I give great advice," Merlin said defensively. "And you've even taken some of it."

"When?!"

"'People should marry for love'?" Merlin said slyly. Arthur's eyes widened for an instant before narrowing.

"Okay, well, maybe _some _of your advice is good. But you'll have to start listening if you want to be the King's advisor."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "The King's advisor? Really, Arthur, I didn't know you thought so highly of me. I only said that I wanted to become a herb master."

A very faint blush coloured Arthur's cheeks as the Knights stifled their chuckles as best they could. Merlin's expression was smug.

"What's put you in such a good mood?" Arthur muttered.

"He pinned Lancelot after three minutes in the sparring ring," Percival said with a grin.

"_Merlin _pinned _Lancelot_?" Arthur repeated slowly.

"Yes."

"Good gods, I've gone mad."

The Knights guffawed and Arthur shot Merlin a smile that the warlock could have sworn had a hint of pride in it. The smile only lasted a few seconds and Merlin knew it was only for him. He would keep that knowledge to himself and would think of it often in the days to come.

"So, how was the council meeting?" Leon asked.

Arthur sighed. "Not good. Mercia has extended its borders towards Camelot. I'm starting to think that Bayard is regretting the treaty he signed."

"I'm not surprised," Merlin murmured. "I _did _accuse him of trying to poison you."

"Yes, Merlin. If this leads to a war I'm blaming you."

"Of course, Sire."

Arthur paused for a long moment, an expression of unease crossing his face. He wrestled silently with his disquiet for a moment before continuing. "I, uh, will need you all to be ready for a patrol in the morning."

"Yes, Sire," the Knights chorused together, bowing.

Arthur shot Merlin a look out of the corner of his eye and Merlin wondered at it. The Prince looked away before Merlin could say anything. Not that he would. Merlin was rather inept in that regard.

**{}{}{}{}{}{M}{}{}{}{}{}**

Merlin was awake before the sun rose the next morning. He yawned widely and stretched before lighting a single candle and dressing quickly in the dim light. He pulled on his jacket and snuck passed Gaius who was happily snoring on his bed. Merlin shook his head, smiling, and hurried out the door.

The servants were the only people awake at this dark hour, milling around the castle, stocking fires and preparing breakfast. Merlin hurried to the armoury to gather Arthur's chainmail and armour, balancing it precariously in his arms. Trying carefully not to drop it all, he began his perilous trek up the stairs to the Prince's chamber.

"Morning, Merlin," a maid said as she passed.

"Morning," he mumbled back, unable to see past the pile of armour. He stuck his head round the pile and almost smacked into a guard.

"Sorry!" he called as he walked by, shifting the armour into a more manageable position.

He stopped outside Arthur's door and knocked twice with his elbow that was sore from hitting Lancelot the day before. There was no answer and he couldn't reach his key so he murmured a quiet, "_tospringe_." The door gave a muted click as it unlocked and Merlin pushed it open with his hip.

The room was still dark and Arthur was sleeping soundly, curled up in a ball beneath his covers. Merlin frowned. Surely the Prince hadn't been cold? Merlin had given him another blanket and put a hot coal pan beneath his mattress. There was a definite chill in the air, but not too bitter for an autumn night.

Merlin put the armour down silently on the table, using magic to lower the pieces down noiselessly so that he didn't drop any and wake the Prince. He turned back to Arthur and lit the candles by his bedside with a breath of magic.

"Arthur," Merlin called softly. "Don't have a heart attack, but I'm awake before you. You have a patrol to be on in an hour."

Arthur's answer was to snore loudly. Merlin laughed quietly and walked up to the bed. He poked his master hard in one shoulder. Arthur grunted. Merlin poked him again.

"Oi, prat," Merlin said loudly. "Time to get up!"

"Merlin," Arthur murmured.

"Finally he rises," Merlin chuckled. "Yes, Sire?"

"Merlin," Arthur said again, as soft as a sigh. Merlin frowned. He pulled the covers off of Arthur's face. The Prince was still asleep. Why was he saying Merlin's name in his sleep?

"Arthur!" Merlin called. The Prince's eyes flew open, groggy and unfocused.

"Mr'in? Wha're you doin' here?" He rubbed his eyes. "Come back to bed…"

"Uh, don't you mean '_go_ back to bed'?"

Arthur sat bolt upright. "I, uh, that is exactly what I meant. What time is it?"

"Two hours before sunrise. You have a patrol to lead."

Arthur yawned and stretched. "Why are _you _awake?" he asked. "I go on patrol – you get a lie in, that's how it usually works."

"Usually. But this time, _I'm _comingwithyou_._"

Arthur looked at his manservant. "You're coming on patrol," he said. "Voluntarily?"

"Don't look so surprised," Merlin muttered indignantly. "I'm actually a devoted servant."

"Can't argue with that," Arthur murmured. A strange expression passed over his face. "Wow, I actually can't. There's a surprise."

"By all means, keep insulting me," Merlin grouched.

"Oh, I will. Don't you worry about that."

Merlin rolled his eyes and unfolded Arthur's chainmail. The Prince dressed quickly, pulling on his tunic and leggings. Merlin lowered the chainmail over Arthur's head and fastened it with the sword belt. He fastened bracers to Arthur's wrists and greaves to his legs. The whole process had become second nature to Merlin now and was a methodical practice that he actually enjoyed doing. Mainly because he could do it _well._

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"What do you think of dreams?"

The question was odd and completely random. Merlin raised an eyebrow as he finished fastening the last plates of armour to Arthur's shoulders.

"I don't really think about them. Not many people really do unless they're Seers. Dreams are usually just your subconscious' way of dealing with things."

Arthur looked thoughtful. "Can they mean anything else?"

"Sure. If you were reading something before you go to bed or you were told something that had an emotional effect on you; that can cause dreams. Or if you were thinking about something that confuses you or something you want…or you don't know that you want. I once dreamed that I was a bird because I used to want to fly."

Arthur smiled softly. "Dreams are strange."

"I suppose they are… Okay, done." Merlin stepped away and handed Arthur his sword that he took and sheathed in one fluid movement. Merlin's breath hitched but he had no idea why. "Out of curiosity, what were you dreaming about?"

Arthur paused, his brow puckering into a frown. He looked down at the floor. Merlin was alarmed by the sudden change in the young Prince.

"Something I didn't know that I wanted," he mumbled and turned away. Merlin stared after the Prince in confusion.

"Why is that a problem?" he asked.

"Because I can't have it." The Prince raised his chin and walked out the door. Merlin followed after, completely perplexed.

**{}{}{}{}{}{M}{}{}{}{}{}**

"It's… so… _early,_" Gwaine complained, pressing his face into his horse's neck. Lancelot laughed as he fastened his bags to his horse's saddle. Percival and Leon had already mounted and were waiting outside the stables for the Prince. Elyan was pouring over a map, marking out their route with red ink.

"Someone stop Gwaine from falling over," Merlin called. Lancelot looked up as Merlin and Arthur approached, Merlin with his pack hoisted onto his shoulders. The manservant hurried ahead to saddle Arthur's horse for him.

"Your highness?" Leon questioned, looking after Merlin.

"Yes, he's coming with us. I can't seem to get rid of him." Merlin led Arthur's horse and his own out, saddled and ready for the journey. Arthur mounted swiftly. "Ready?" he called. The six Knights answered with a chorus of affirmatives. Arthur flicked the reigns and his horse plunged forward. The Knights followed him in a tight formation, galloping through the streets of Camelot as the first stirrings of life began in the village surrounding the kingdom.

Merlin urged his horse forward faster to take up his usual position just behind Arthur's horse. Lancelot followed close behind with Gwaine riding parallel to him. Percival, Leon and Elyan headed up the rest of the Knights.

The route they were following took two days to reach on horseback and ran through the land that neither Camelot nor Mercia had claim to. It was known as a no man's land and was the territory that Bayard had agreed to leave untouched when he signed the treaty with Camelot. According to the last patrol, Mercia had attempted to encroach on the land and extend its border four square miles in each direction. Arthur wanted to see for himself if this was true before the King accused Mercia for violating the treaty.

They stopped three hours after sunrise to let the horses drink and rest. The Knight relished the momentary respite and settled down for a quiet moments rest. Merlin dismounted with a painful grimace, stretching his sore muscles. Arthur seemed to be in poor spirits and was sitting alone beside a small brook where the horses were drinking. Merlin walked over to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, sitting beside the Prince and wincing as he did so.

"I'm hungry," Arthur muttered. Merlin snorted a laugh.

"I should have known. You're always grouchy when you haven't eaten."

"I'm not grouchy," Arthur protested.

"Oh, okay. And I don't have sweetmeats in my pack..." Merlin let the bait sit there.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. "Sweetmeats?" he said casually.

"Mmhmm," Merlin said. "I stopped by the kitchen before we left. Helga gave me a whole bundle of it. Apparently it's a surplus from the feast of Samhain…"

"…I'm really grouchy," Arthur said with a grin. Merlin laughed and fetched his pack, pulling out the wrapped bundle of sweetmeats and offered it to Arthur, swiping a few pieces for himself. The Prince ate hungrily and Merlin remembered he hadn't had any breakfast.

"You know, you said my name in your sleep earlier," Merlin said. Arthur stopped eating.

"I did?" he asked uneasily.

"Mmm. I was trying to wake you up and you sort of sighed my name."

"It was probably in exasperation."

"Maybe."

Arthur licked honey off his fingers and washed his hands in the brook. Merlin wrapped up the rest of the sweetmeats and stuffed them in his pack.

"If you want a drink, have one now so I can fill the water skins back up," Merlin said. Arthur nodded and took a long draught from the sack before handing it to Merlin who dipped it onto the spring.

Once the Knights were a sight more awake, they remounted and headed off at a more languid pace. Gwaine was still half asleep so Lancelot and Percival amused themselves by poking him with sticks and throwing things at him whenever he drifted off in the saddle. Arthur slowed his horse to a smooth trot so he could keep pace with Merlin.

"So, you managed to pin Lancelot in training," he said conversationally. Merlin nodded.

"Yeah. It was quite fun actually. Because I'm not as…well, _muscular_ as the Knights, I'm faster than they are. Lancelot was teaching me how to use evading to my advantage. Also, his left hand twitches before he's about to attack."

"You noticed that?" Arthur sounded impressed.

"Uh-huh. All the Knights have little quirks that give away their intention. You have to look really closely. You for example."

"What do I do? You've never fought me."

Merlin made a face. "Because I value my life too much." Arthur laughed.

"Seriously, what do I do?"

Merlin pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well, whenever I've watched you fight, you seem to go into some kind of trance. Because I know you, I know that you're mentally assessing your opponent and cataloguing his weaknesses before you engage him."

Arthur frowned. How did Merlin know that?

"Whenever you walk into a room or someone else enters a room you're already in, you've assessed and memorised their weaknesses before they've even sat down," Merlin continued. "You view everyone as a potential threat. I used to think you were just a cocky prat-"

"Hey!"

"-because you acted like you could beat everyone. But now I know that you act like that because you _can_."

"So what do I do? What gives me away?"

"You go unnaturally still," Merlin explained. "Just after you've drawn your sword your entire body freezes. Then you attack. It's amazing to watch."

Arthur looked straight ahead. Merlin had noticed so much about him. He felt slightly vulnerable now that he knew how much Merlin noticed. Yet… he felt strangely pleased at the same time that he had been the object of Merlin's attention for so long.

"You once said you could take me apart with less than one blow," Arthur murmured. "What did you mean?"

"…I was being an idiot," Merlin said after a moment. "I don't actually have that kind of power." It was a blatant lie and Merlin hated it. Arthur said nothing and Merlin wondered if Arthur knew he wasn't being truthful.

"You know, we could have been good friends, you and I," Arthur mused.

"I know you have this thing where you think that a Prince can't have friends," Merlin said in exasperation. "But contrary to your 'unassailable' logic, we _are _friends."

Arthur looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Your father has friends. Gaius is probably one of his closest. What stop us from being friends? I might not be one of your Knights – who, by the way, are also your friends – but you know that I would die for you. I've spent three years _by your_ _side_. I think that constitutes a friendship, don't you?"

A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. "You know, I actually agree with you, Merlin."

Merlin laughed. "It took three years and forty near-death experiences to prove it, but I think I've finally gotten through to you." He grinned and held out his hand. "Friends?"

Arthur took the extended hand and shook it. "Friends."

{}{}{}{}{}{M}{}{}{}{}{}

The company stopped just before nightfall to make camp. Merlin collected fire wood with Lancelot and Gwaine all but collapsed on the ground. Arthur shook his head in amusement and went to catch something for dinner. It looked bleak but he managed to catch two hares that would be enough to sustain them for one night.

He was skinning the hares with his hunting knife when Lancelot and Merlin came into the camp with arms full of enough firewood to last the night. Merlin came over to examine the food with a critical eye.

"What have we got?" he asked. Arthur showed him. "Hmm. Well, we have some of those sweetmeats left so I'm thinking stew."

"Since when can you cook?" Arthur asked. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I grew up in a farming village, Arthur. I know how to cook. Boil some water, I'll be right back." Merlin disappeared quickly through the trees. Arthur did as Merlin had suggested and pulled a pan out of Merlin's pack.

"He has everything in here," he commented. Lancelot laughed quietly, warming his hands by his fire. Arthur filled the pan with water and placed it over the fire to wait for it to boil. Merlin reappeared just as the water started to bubble.

"Okay, I found some herbs to put in the stew." He knelt beside the pan and dropped in a few sprigs and threw in the meat. He stirred it slowly, whistling to himself.

"Whenever I think I've got you figured out, you do something to surprise me," Arthur said quietly.

"I'm just really interesting," Merlin joked.

"I always feel like there's something really obvious that I'm missing," Arthur murmured, "whenever I talk to you." Merlin paused in stirring the stew. "I feel like there's something you're hiding from me."

"Everyone has secrets," Merlin hedged. "What makes you think that mine are important?"

Arthur shrugged. "It doesn't feel like it's a normal secret. This feels… integral."

Merlin smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's a big word for you." Arthur snorted and shoved his shoulder gently. Merlin laughed and tried to keep a cheerful façade up. He pretended that it wasn't physically painful to lie to Arthur. He pretended that he didn't feel strange whenever Arthur smiled at him. He pretended he didn't know what that meant.

When Merlin fell asleep that night, he felt so tired of pretending.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, you'll be happy to know that this story is going to reach critical MerthurArlin quite quickly because I want their relationship to be established early on so we can get right down to the nitty gritty as soon as possible!**

**I'll write the spell translations down here for anyone who wants to know:**

**Tospringe – Open**

**Only one? Aw…**

**Please review! **

**Hugs! (")…..(")**

**Hollie Xxx**


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